


Bedtime Story

by Barb G (troutkitty)



Category: Highlander: The Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-12-02
Updated: 1998-12-02
Packaged: 2017-10-24 15:13:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/264926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troutkitty/pseuds/Barb%20G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos... initiates a little... contact 'tween he and Mac.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bedtime Story

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a cute email forwarded to me by a friend. :) More fluff, I'm afraid, but I had fun. Methos too, I guess. Sigh. No violence, angst or darkness. Something is wrong with me, I know. Ruth beta'ed this, and in record time. Not only is she an amazing writer she gives great beta. :) Methos doesn't belong to me, Duncan isn't mine, and the ghost of Kronos isn't my toy either. I own my cat, but he's not in this story.

Methos nudged him.

He didn't use his finger.

MacLeod could tell by Methos' breathing that the old man was still asleep behind him, but the erection poked him again in the small of his back. "Methos?" MacLeod asked.

The snake-like hips rubbed up against him. If he was going to get dry humped, he'd rather it be by a fully awake partner. He half sat up. "Methos, wake up if you're going to do that."

Methos jolted awake, and then spooked. "MacLeod?" he asked, voice still thick from sleep.

"You were expecting someone else?" MacLeod demanded.

Methos opened his mouth for a second to long before speaking. "No," he said, and MacLeod knew he was lying through his back teeth. MacLeod knew what those back teeth felt like.

He grabbed the sleepy Immortal, flipped him on his back, and straddled his lower belly. "Who was it?" MacLeod demanded.

Methos' eyes grew very wide in that feigned innocent look he had, and then realized MacLeod was not buying it. "I am not going to tell you," he said.

"Why not?"

"Because you couldn't handle the comparison," Methos said, and let his eyes drop down MacLeod's body. He looked up with a slow smile. "Believe me."

MacLeod grabbed both his wrists and held them over Methos' head. "What do you mean by that?"

"Let's just say it's a good thing you challenged him with a sword. His other weapon would have beaten you into submission," Methos drawled.

"Are you expecting me to get off on this?" MacLeod demanded, and he honestly needed to hear the answer. He wasn't sure if he was getting off on this himself. Methos looked up at him with narrowed hazel eyes. "If I told you he would lick every inch of me to cool me off during the worst part of the day or how we made it a point to fuck in every oasis we came across, would that help?"

If it had just been his words, maybe MacLeod might have kept to his higher ground and remember that it was *Kronos* Methos was talking about, but while Methos spoke he kept thrusting against MacLeod as best he could. With MacLeod sitting on Methos's lower belly, Methos's cock lay between Mac's buttocks. Methos' eyes questioned him, asking him if he wanted to continue without saying the words. Rationally, Mac didn't want to hear about this, but the dark side of him, the side that wanted to tie Methos up and lick Scotch off his testicles, wasn't listening to sane part of him.

Methos smiled, probably at his turmoil, and continued. "He had a great cock, God, thick, too. When he was inside me I wanted him to rip me to shreds. I called him a coward when he greased himself up with fat. I loved watching him move his fist over his dick. He'd never let me do it, he made me lay back with my legs spread and wait for him to be ready for me."

MacLeod's breathing changed. "Show me," he said, breathing hard.

Methos smiled at him almost shyly without considering the circumstances. "You have to get off me," Methos said, blinking carefully.

MacLeod pushed away, sliding between Methos's thighs as the old man parted his legs. "Like this," he said, laying back down so that only the pillows propped him up. "I had to get ready, too," Methos whispered.

MacLeod fumbled with the drawer and pulled out the tube of lube. "Show me," he said again. The thrill of having Methos in front of him like that went straight to his own cock, erect and abandoned, rubbing against his belly.

Methos coated three fingers, rubbing the jelly on with his fingers. He smiled. "Three, never more, never less. Two didn't hurt enough and four had me too loose. I made him use two when I fucked him. I wanted a tight fit, but he wanted three."

Methos' face grimaced as he forced himself down on the tight muscles. "He loved watching me do this. Do you?" Methos asked, looking up. MacLeod watched as the fingers slowly inched their way until they were all the way inside him, and then Methos exhaled. "Sometimes he wanted to watch me fuck myself and sometimes he couldn't wait. What do you want?" Methos asked, looking up at him. His voice was strained, and his jaw tight. It looked as if even keeping his eyes open was a struggle.

MacLeod shook his head, suddenly realizing his tongue was so dry it was about to crack. "Fuck yourself," he said, harshly. More harshly than he intended, but Methos just smiled.

"Your call," he said. He bent one leg, lifting his hips off the bed and readjusted his arm to get a longer stroke. On the down stroke Methos opened his fingers slightly against the strain to make it easier for MacLeod, and once the fingers were buried inside him again Methos's fingers twitched, trying to find the gland. He sighed when he did, and kept the very constant motion. Methos' hips came off the bed thrusting in time with his own hand. His eyes shut, and for a moment MacLeod couldn't look away from how beautiful Methos looked pleasing himself, even if it was degrading.

Methos's grin mellowed to a soft smile, and Mac realized that Methos wasn't debasing himself. This was Methos's game. He was just a voyeur/eventual participant. Seeing the look on Methos' face, he amended that to hopeful eventual participant. Methos began making those whining sounds he made when he threw his head back and lost himself.

"Methos?" MacLeod had to ask. Not touching the man was killing him.

Methos cracked an eye and smiled, working his jaw. "Kronos never asked," he said.

MacLeod yanked his hand free and replaced it with his cock. Methos' body jerked as he buried himself deeply inside and then he grunted as Mac grabbed his hips and hauled him into a better position. Methos was flexible under him, hot, tight and completely open for him. The gasps Methos made had MacLeod's cock throbbing from the feeling of Methos pulse surrounding him.

MacLeod kissed him, panting around the lip-lock. Methos grinned, which didn't help the kiss at all. MacLeod tried to sustain it, but it didn't work. He bit Methos's lip as punishment for his lack of interest and Methos whimpered, but it sounded more of need than pain.

MacLeod shifted back to put more energy into his thrusts. Methos licked his lips, keeping them parted as MacLeod touched his cock for the first time.

Methos sat up, his abdominal muscles cramped that hard. "Oh, God, Mac," Methos hissed trying to buck against MacLeod's thrusts. "Fuck me, MacLeod, please."

"Kronos never did this to you?" MacLeod demanded, feeling sadistic.

"Kronos who?" Methos gritted out through clenched teeth.

It was what Mac had been waiting to hear. He delicately stroked Methos' length with his two fingers and then ground his palm into the vein where the cock became the testicles. Methos' body lifted off the sheets again and he all but howled.

MacLeod couldn't hold on any longer as Methos shuddered underneath him. He had never heard Methos make that sound before. Methos collapsed back on the bed, suddenly boneless, and it took every ounce of strength Mac had to not fall on top of him. He rolled onto his side and gasped in all the oxygen needed to steady his heartbeat.

"Did Kronos ever do that to you?" MacLeod demanded, his voice sounding harsher than he intended.

Methos's tired laugh sounded distant. "Kronos? God, no."

"What?" MacLeod demanded, sitting up.

"I thought we could use some excitement," Methos said, pushing backward so he could press against MacLeod's chest. "It had been getting dull around here."

The indignation of being used almost entirely voided out the sudden rush of pleasure. "What?" he asked, hating to repeat himself.

Methos laughed again, but this time it was definitely tinged with sleep. "Why the hell did you think he had such a big sword? He was compensating for a lot of things," Methos said, drifting off.


End file.
